


Stay Awhile

by StarBrat (IdleJane)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, I just have a lot of feelings you know?, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleJane/pseuds/StarBrat
Summary: You can’t begin to fathom what it means to have someone be yours the way Bucky’s yours. Can’t wrap your head around being someone else’s the way you’re Bucky’s.





	Stay Awhile

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a She and Him song of the same title. This story has been sitting on my computer since last year and idk! I just wanted to post it. I haven't written very many Character x You fics before but I tried to keep the descriptions of 'you' as vague as possible. Let me know if something seems off and I'll rectify it right away! Also please note that I took some (very minor) liberties with the extents of the Super Solider Serum and it's many benefits so, don't @ me! See you at the finish line!

You come home to find Bucky bruised up and sleeping on your couch and your heart all but gives out at the sight of him. 

He’s soaking wet, clearly having been caught out in the rain and his hair slick with it, clothes dripping on the floor, the metal of his arm gleaming in the low light when you flick the lights on. 

You try to be as quiet as remotely possible, hoping that by some small chance his keen senses are too tuckered out from the day to pick up your soft footfalls padding over to the bathroom to get out bandaids. Come the morning he wouldn’t need them, he heals so damn fast, but the cut on his forehead is scary to look at and you want it to stop the bleeding even if it’s to soothe your own mind. 

From the couch Bucky stirs and he turns over to blink sleepily at you as you make your retreat down the hall. 

“Hey,” he croaks, voice sleep gruff and strained. Your heart sinks at the bruising under his eyes. 

He’s not sleeping enough. 

He’d been out of the apartment for days at a time and you had to wonder if he was sleeping at all when he stayed with the Avengers in their HQ. You’d be sure to call Tony tomorrow morning and give him a piece of your mind if necessary, guy was afraid of you enough as it was and you needed to make sure your boyfriend was getting the rest he deserved. 

Saving the world took a lot of energy after all.

“Hey,” you come over when he tries to sit up and fails, dropping down onto the couch cushions and groaning in pain. 

“Buck, you’re hurt,” your hands come up to his chest and you don’t even know where to start, how to fix it. Your palms shake so hard you have to close your eyes and breathe for a second to steady them. 

You’ve seen worse, on him, on Steve when he came around, on Sam and Nat on even rarer occasions. 

That didn’t mean it didn’t scare you like it was the very first time every time you’ve ever seen him beaten up and bruised. 

“No doctor,” he brings a hand up to rest on top of your own, stilling them both over his heart. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s okay, I’m here.”

And seriously, what were you supposed to do with that? There he was lying injured comforting  
_you_. Why was it that all of the men in your life liked to scare you half to death with injuries that looked critical and then insist on not seeing a doctor?

_Because they’re all superheroes with freaky healing powers, dummy._

Oh, right.

“You hungry? I’ve got some leftovers from last night.” You brush his hair back and he gives you a small smile, the corners of his lips bending upward. 

“Sounds good,” he pauses, bringing your fingers up to his lips and kissing them all individually. “I’ve missed you so much, it’s good to see you again.” 

And has it really been that long since you’ve seen each other? You think back to the last time you’d actually seen your boyfriends face not in a newspaper or scattered across the internet but _in person_. Twenty days, six hours, thirty seven minutes and one...two...three.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” You plant a soft kiss on his cheekbone, standing up and padding into the kitchen to fix him something to warm eat. Your hands shake through the preparation and you have to steady yourself on the countertop for a moment before you’re grabbing his plate out of the microwave and setting it on the counter. You catch a glimpse of the only photo you have on the fridge, the two of you on your first day in the apartment, your head turned toward the camera and Bucky looking at you. 

It’d been the first of many photos, Bucky took hundreds of them. Most of them are of you.

Sleeping in bed, making breakfast, stepping out of the closet half dressed and panicking because you were running late for work. Silly things, he liked to capture all of it. 

But this was by far your favorite. Both of you surrounded by boxes of stuff, most of it yours because Bucky hadn’t exactly gotten around to making a permanent life for himself in the twenty first century yet, and the rest of it gifts from various Avengers and friends. You run a hand over the edges of the photo, smiling for a moment before making a beeline for the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. 

You set the plastic box down on the small two person dining table before heading back to Bucky with food. 

“Let me take a look at that cut on your forehead when you’re done, yeah?” You hand the plate over and find him sitting shirtless on the couch, soggy t-shirt resting on his knee. You take it from him, squeezing it in your palm when you see his mouth working around a reply. 

“It’ll heal just fine, y/n. Honestly.” He lifts his fork and gets to eating. You’ve had this argument before. He’d always say you didn’t understand and you’d always agree because you don’t. You’re not one of them no matter how close you were to them all. You were an outsider in a world much bigger than your own, surrounded by people who did amazing fantastic things and you tried so hard to get it, to be accepting of it because this was who Bucky was. You would never ask him to change that, ever. But every time he left you you had to wonder if he’d come back the same person you knew when he left, or if he’d come back at all. 

“I know I just 一 just please let me.” You hold his shirt close to your chest. 

_Please let me take care of you._

Bucky’s eyebrow twitches and he sets the plate down on his lap, nodding. 

You take the shirt to the dryer, courtesy of Tony who’d stressed that living in a secure apartment furnished by none other than himself was absolutely vital to the Avengers reputation. He couldn’t have the Winter Soldier living in a three story walk up in the middle of Harlem, that was for sure. No matter how near and dear Harlem had been to your heart as a kid growing up with absolutely nothing. 

When you come back you find Bucky in the kitchen, his back to you from where he’s bowed over the sink cleaning off his plate. You want to snake your arms around him like you normally do and place a sucking kiss onto his shoulder but you don’t. 

He looks so worn out.

“Come sit for a second,” you take his hand when he’s done at the sink, your fingers wet and kind of soapy where the two of you hold onto each other. Bucky lets himself be led to the table, slowly dropping down onto his seat and staring up at you. 

You smile, popping open the med kit and gently dabbing at the wound on his forehead with disinfectant. It wouldn’t need stitches, wasn’t deep enough and frankly it’d be gone come sunrise but cleaning it out made you feel calm. Bucky closes his eyes, and you guess the feeling must be mutual because he’s leaning into your touch, very much on the verge of falling asleep now that your hands are on him. 

“How’s the gang?” you ask, disposing of the wipe and carding your hands through his hair. 

Bucky places his hands on your hips pulling you closer. He rests his head on your stomach and sighs, greedily leaning up into your touch. “They’re good. Steve tried out that recipe you gave him for your mom’s red velvet cupcakes the other day.”

“Oh?,” you pause and you can feel the heat of Bucky’s laugh through the fabric of your t-shirt. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “They were awful. Nothing like yours at all.”

You continue to scratch his scalp and shake your head, you can’t even imagine Steve working an oven much less baking with one. Maybe one day you’d have to teach him how to do it right. You say as much aloud and earn a _mmmmm_ from Bucky as a response. He blinks up at you sleepily, hand coming up to bunch a bit of your t-shirt into his fist and holding there. You soothe a palm over the back of his neck and shake your head. You know all of his tells of exhaustion, so you place a steady palm on his shoulder before saying, “Let’s go to bed.”

And yeah you’re both kind of grimy. 

You from hours standing on your feet and helping people at the physical therapy office you worked in and him from doing everything else. You’d have time for showers later, maybe in the morning you could take one together and slip slide through the bubbles kissing til you're both breathless, but right now you just wanted to wrap yourself around him and sleep the first fitful sleep you’ve had in a good long while. Judging by the groggy way Bucky ghosts his fingers up your side, probably the first for him too. 

He follows you down the hall, arms draped around your waist, chin over your shoulder. It’s a bit of a struggle getting out of your clothes, but Bucky’s hands wrap fiendishly around your waist when you’ve freed yourself of your t-shirt and you help him out of his pants with a kiss to his chin when you’re done. He nudges you back onto the mattress and then he’s crawling up the bed to lay beside you. His hand comes up to touch the inside of your wrist, thumb rubbing over the birthmark there, your skin humming at the contact. 

You fight back the tears budding in your eyes when he sinks back into the pillow to stare at you, fingers wrapping around your forearm and cuffing it gently. In the darkness you can see the peace settle over his features like a slow going tide, the fold between his eyebrows clearing, the gaunt look in his eyes fading into serenity. 

You bring your fingers up to trace his face, hoping to memorize it. 

The coarseness of stubble where he hasn’t shaved, the faint blue veins in his eyelids, that little light spot behind his ear, all of it’s yours and you can’t begin to fathom what it means to have someone be yours the way Bucky’s yours. Can’t wrap your head around being someone else’s the way you’re Bucky’s. 

Bucky smiles like he gets it and maybe he does. Being his girlfriend made it easy for the words to be left unsaid but understood. You just knew each other in ways that didn’t need interpreting and your eyes are burning just at the thought of losing him. You have to swallow back the tears because god you love him and it hurts seeing him hurt like this. 

“I love you, you know.” You say past the tightness in your throat and Bucky nods. 

“I know. I love you too,” his eyes flicker between your own before he’s turning on his back to stare up at the ceiling, hand never leaving yours. 

You’re trying so hard to quell your distress but one day you knew that you could wake up in bed alone, he could die out there doing what he thinks is best for the city. 

For you. 

He’s got this big stupidly pure heart and you’re selfish but you want to protect him from all the bad in the world. 

You’re not like him. Born out of time and stronger because of it. You don’t know how to shield him but you’re going to spend every damn day trying to figure it out because you love him and what is love if not worth protecting. 

You sigh, sniffling because you can’t help yourself sometimes. 

His arms come around you and then he’s kissing you, soft and lingering. You bury your head into his chest and listen to his heartbeat fall into time with your own. 

Your arms come around him to hold tight and you don’t let go for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
